


Skin and Bones

by somnivagrantTraviatus



Series: Headcanons [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Humantale, Character Study?, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 21:42:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7331617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somnivagrantTraviatus/pseuds/somnivagrantTraviatus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“There's supposed to be a mountain here,” he finally says. “Did you know that?”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skin and Bones

He's missing when you come home. That's no surprise, really; he's always felt most comfortable in his own company, and ever since you led them here, where they could see the stars, he's made an infrequent habit of disappearing. The first time he had done it, his brother had nearly had a heart attack. He'd torn the house upside down looking for him, and roped all his friends into joining the search.

You had slipped away when they weren't looking, and come back with him in tow.

Now, whenever he disappears, his brother lets you pull him back home. You're the only one who knows where he goes, anyway. It's just easier to let you handle it than to get everyone worked up. So when you come home to see his brother pacing anxiously on the front porch, you drop your bag off, give him a hug, and walk straight back down the driveway and out to the hills.

The long grass whispers against your ankles as you approach. Just like always, he's lying down amongst the stalks, nearly lost in the sea of grass. You sit down next to him, close but not too close, and he doesn't move, but a subtle shiver runs through his body like he's not sure if he wants you closer or farther away.

You sit in silence for a long time. The sky is grey, but flushes peach and orange as the sun begins to sink. The light dances on your skin. He looks almost haloed like this.

“There's supposed to be a mountain here,” he finally says. “Did you know that?”

You shake your head.

“Nah, I guess you wouldn't. Some company bought the land, blew it all up for real estate that never happened.” He turns his head towards you, and you're struck by the bitter loss in his mismatched eyes. “This whole thing was never supposed to happen, was it?”

You look at him, confused but compassionate. He searches for something in your gaze, then laughs bitterly, dropping quickly away from the eye contact and turning back to face the sky. “Yeah, thought so. You don't even know what this feels like, kiddo,” he says, holding a hand in front of his face and watching the dying sunlight play over his skin. “I'm not supposed to be like this.”

You want to ask him what he means. You don't. 

He takes pity on you. “I have dreams,” he says. “Every night. Some of ‘em are better than others, but every time, I'm trapped - we’re all trapped - in a place with no sunlight. Some nights, we escape somehow, and I feel warm for the first time.” Then his pitch lowers, and he nearly growls when he says, “Some nights, I drown in dust instead.”

You shiver, not knowing why.

He winks his eyes shut one at a time, right first, then left, as if satisfied with your reaction. One hand reaches to the grass by his side and idly plucks a little stalk. He twirls it back and forth between his fingers. “There's another thing that's the same, too,” he adds conversationally. “When I fall asleep, it feels like waking up. When my eyes open? That's when I feel like I'm dreaming.” His eyelashes flutter with his breathing. A cool breeze blows by, raising goosebumps on your skin, and you both shiver slightly. Voice taut, he says, “I don't want to be like this, okay? I just want everything to be normal. This was never supposed to happen, kid, when are you going to make everything normal again?”

A few tears squeeze their way out from the corners of his eyes and trail down his cheeks. He ignores them. He's still smiling, but it's fragile, so fragile, like a cracked childhood ornament you just rediscovered in the attic. When you feel saltwater on your own cheeks, you ignore it, too.

You sit in silence for a long time, ignoring each other’s tears and watching the sun go down. When the first stars begin to appear, you reach for his hand. He lets you take it, and you easily pull him to his feet. He really is just skin and bones.

You hug him. After a moment, he hugs you back. His embrace is soft and all-enveloping, with a desperation that shows in how tightly he clings. His hugs are always the best. You whisper an apology, hoping your own hug is enough to carry your sincerity.

He just presses you a little closer.

Neither of you wants to let go, but it's getting dark, and his brother is worried. You remind him of these things, and he sighs.

“Yeah, okay, kid,” he says, resignation dripping off his words. When you offer your hand, he takes it, and gives you a tired little smile. “Let's go home.”


End file.
